


Two to be Steady

by Branch



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Angst, Drama, Fluff, M/M, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-22
Updated: 2009-02-27
Packaged: 2017-10-02 05:54:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Branch/pseuds/Branch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Roy and Hughes might have met and become friends. The starting thought was How did Roy get to be like that? Hughes seemed a reasonable answer. Drama With Occasional Porn, spoilers eps 3 and 15</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

###  I

When Maas Hughes moseyed into the refectory the first sight to meet his eyes was the unpleasant one of First Lieutenant George Cutter and his cronies bullying another new officer.

He could see right away what had drawn them. This one looked pretty young, slightly built, and was huddled just a bit into his overcoat as if trying to keep the whole world from looking at him. Of course it had the opposite effect on all the lowlife.

_I can’t eat a decent lunch with this going on_, Maas decided, and started through the lunch-time crowd toward the scene.

He got there just in time to hear Cutter sneer, “…heard Gran transferred you right off, too. Maybe you aren’t as _good_ as he thought you’d be.”

The young man finally stirred, unfolding his arms. The coat slipped off as his shoulders straightened and he laid his right hand, palm down, on the table.

There was a circle on the back of his glove.

Silence spread out like ripples in water after a dropped stone. Maas pursed his lips, seeing the blank chill in those dark eyes now focused on Cutter. This man had not just come to the end of his rope, he’d deliberately dropped it. _This could just get bad._

And then he looked at Cutter and couldn’t help but burst out laughing. Cutter looked like a melting ice cube he was sweating so hard, and white showed all the way around his eyes. Heads turned at the unexpected sound, and Maas strolled the rest of the way to the table, slapping Cutter on the shoulder in passing.

“Looks like you have a real talent for picking the wrong target, there, George.” Maas plonked himself down in the chair opposite the young Alchemist. “Why don’t you just run along, before I spare our new friend here the bother?” Just to drive the point home, Maas flicked out one of his knives for a moment. Cutter broke and scurried off, his tiny gang of sycophants on his heels. Maas shook his head, still chuckling.

“What a loser.” He squinted at the exposed circle. “The Flame Alchemist, hm? Well, no wonder you look like death warmed over.”

The Alchemist blinked at him. Maas glanced at the insignia. “And it’ll probably be days before it catches up with him that, in addition to frying him, you could have him up for threatening a superior officer. Too bad I won’t be there to see his expression.” Maas sighed, wistfully.

“Why wouldn’t you?”

Maas smiled to have finally gotten some words out of the man, even if they were a bit flat. “He tried that stunt on me when I was first assigned at Central. Like I said, he has a talent for the wrong target. He stays as clear of me as he can these days.”

The Alchemist accepted this with a nod. After another moment of silence Maas tried a new approach.

“I know the food isn’t the best, but you should probably try to eat a little more than that,” he nodded at the untouched tray.

A head shake met this suggestion. “I was actually just about to leave. I have some practice scheduled for myself.”

If Maas had ever seen someone who really didn’t need to be alone with himself, it was this person. “Practice, huh? Do you mind an audience?” he asked casually.

Finally, the Alchemist actually focused on him. Maas smiled at the question in his look, letting just a hint of challenge slip into the expression. It seemed to do the trick, because the Alchemist’s chin came up just a bit.

“No, I don’t particularly mind,” he answered.

Maas grinned and offered his hand. “Well then, Maas Hughes, pleased to meet you.”

The Alchemist reached out his right hand automatically, pulled up sharply like a stumble, but completed the gesture after all and clasped Maas hand. “Roy Mustang. Likewise.”

_And you really sound it,_ Maas reflected wryly. But, what the hell, it was about time for his monthly act of charity.

Practice, in this case, took place outside. A reasonable precaution, considering that Mustang seemed bound and determined to see how many different ways he could blow things up. And, indeed, it seemed an audience didn’t matter to him. He focused on his targets as if he were completing the last step in creating the Philosopher’s Stone. Maas might as well not have been there, except that Mustang never actually aimed through him.

Twelve hay bales later, Maas was moved to a question. “Wouldn’t a wider range of materials be more useful?”

“If I was working on my range it would,” Mustang replied, a bit distracted. “But this is for precision.”

Maas surveyed the blizzard of charred straw around them. “Precision. Of course.” As he’d half hoped, that pricked Mustang into a more detailed response.

“How much of the straw has actually been burned?” the Alchemist asked, dark eyes snapping but tone cool.

Maas took a longer look, estimating the scattered straw against the intact bales Mustang hadn’t gotten to yet. “Between half and a third,” he guessed.

“Precisely,” a tight smile, “and straw is considerably more flammable than… other things.”

_People or buildings,_ Maas filled in that sudden catch. “Huh. So how can you burn something lightly? Fire is there or not, isn’t it?” he probed, hoping that his subject wasn’t about to clam up again.

Apparently technical details were safe, because Mustang’s mouth relaxed from its hard line and he actually smiled a bit. “What I transmute is actually air, increasing certain elements to make a path for the fire to move along from the initial spark.” He waggled his fingers indicatively. “Oxygen is easiest, but different elements react differently. By adjusting them one way or another, at one remove from the target or another, I can change the properties of the fire also. I’m pretty sure that I can evacuate the air from around a target, too, without ever burning it, but that’s taking longer to do in practice.” Mustang actually grinned. “If I want to do something like simply incinerating…” he looked at one of the remaining bales and snapped his fingers.

The explosion that rocked the yard left only a smear of ash in its wake.

“…then that’s a lot easier.”

Maas grinned, too. _Ah, if he can still show off he’ll be fine,_ he decided. He was a bit relieved, because he had been seriously considering whether he should bundle Mustang off to a doctor before he lost it. He’d seen a couple people returning from Ishvar who were broken, and the idea of an Alchemist in that situation was not a comfortable one. But Mustang was probably just a little torn around the edges.

“Impressive,” he admitted cheerfully. “With your dedication I can see why Colonel Gran promoted you straight up to Captain.”

Maas started back at the look the flashed over Mustang’s face. Rage, disgust, contempt, horror, all tangled together and were gone. He sucked in a breath. “Or not. You really don’t like Gran, I take it?”

Mustang pursed his lips.

“I mean, you looked like you wanted him standing where that hay bale used to be,” Maas continued before shutting up in recognition that the shock was about to start him babbling. That look had been worlds beyond the one Mustang had given Cutter, and that one had been bad enough.

_Come to think of it…_

“That’s why you finally lost it with Cutter, isn’t it?” Maas hazarded. “When he mentioned Gran.”

Mustang gave him a long look, eyed the Intelligence tabs on Maas uniform, and raised a sardonic brow.

“Oh, come on, you don’t really think I’m investigating you?” Maas was indignant. “I’m a lot smoother than that, thanks so much! Besides, from what I hear Gran can be enough of a bastard to excuse anyone hating him.”

The brow stayed up.

“And on top of that,” Maas huffed, “if you really want to keep a lid on it just being quiet isn’t enough. You should have immediately come out with some harmless reason to be pissed off, like he took the last helping of spinach or something.”

Mustang tilted his head, suddenly thoughtful. “Really?”

Maas put a hand over his face and started laughing. “Yes, really,” he managed. “Good grief, is that what it takes to open you up? I show you how to be successfully insubordinate and you’re fine being friendly?” He lowered his hand just in time to catch the next interesting expression. Irony, this one, shuttered quickly. Mustang said nothing.

“Well,” Maas sighed, “if that’s the case, I should probably mention at this point that you’re doing it again.”

Mustang’s head came up, eyes a little wide. _Way too expressive for his own good, this one_. Maas was familiar with the problem, since he had the same one, but he’d learned how to keep his expression from matching his thoughts too closely. Mustang obviously hadn’t. Maas tried for a casual tone.

“So, what insubordination did you already successfully get away with?”

Mustang pressed his lips together and shook his head.

“Look, I _swear_ I’m not investigating!” Maas protested.

“I believe you.”

The quiet statement shut Maas up, even while the inward look that went with it made him wild to find out what was going on.

“It isn’t my secret. That’s all.” Mustang smiled, a much more fragile look than the grin. “Thanks for the tip, though.”

_I was right the first time!_ Maas groused to himself as Mustang turned back to his hay. _He really needs to talk to someone before whatever he won’t talk about sends him ’round the bend._ Maas knew perfectly well, though, that his silent complaints were merely a last ditch effort to keep “someone” from being him.

Because now he was curious.

### II

Roy had no idea just what had caused First Lieutenant Maas Hughes to decide that he, Roy, needed a friend. Or, possibly, an overseer, because Roy swore that Hughes had his schedule clocked and mapped.

Maybe it was just reflex. Hughes was in Intelligence, after all, and practically drooling for field assignments. Anyone with eyes could see that Headquarters life bored Hughes to tears. Roy couldn’t imagine what the man’s superiors thought they were about, keeping him cooped up here.

So maybe it was just boredom.

Whatever the cause, Hughes popped up in the damndest places, dragging Roy out of his rooms, out of the library, out of his office and off to get food in the city, or a drink, or just a walk. The only place he left Roy alone was when he was practicing, and that only after Roy had threatened to make Hughes a target.

It had been the first time in months he’d even been able to think something like that as a joke.

Today, it was the library.

“Yo, Mustang!”

Hughes cringed, theatrically, in the cross-fire of the librarian’s glare and Roy’s. He tiptoed over to Roy’s table. “What’s on your menu today, O Great Scholar?” he whispered.

Roy favored him with a resigned look. “I _was_ reading history,” he murmured.

“Darts will be much more fun,” Hughes declared, hauling Roy unceremoniously out of his chair. “Think of it as target practice.”

Roy couldn’t help a smile as he was towed out of the library. The more he got his head back in some kind of order, the clearer it was to him that Hughes and his interruptions had done a lot to keep him from crawling into a hole and brooding himself into useless oblivion.

Even if it was a little unnerving that Hughes always seemed to know where he was.

“So, what’s so interesting about reading history, which is all about the stupid mistakes of dead people, when there are live people all around you making brand new stupid mistakes right where you can watch?” Hughes wanted to know.

“Are they new?” Roy asked back.

Hughes eyed him and clearly decided to skip straight to the end of this debate. “If people really could avoid mistakes by learning from history, would we be where we are now?”

A grin stretched Roy’s mouth. This was one of the things he liked about talking with Hughes; the man could think and argue. “Yes, we would, because everyone learns not to make some mistakes, and then doesn’t listen to other people explaining about the _other_ mistakes that _they_ learned not to make.”

“What, you want a steering committee for the world? Or are you just bucking for the General Staff, personally?”

Roy smoothed his expression and, following Hughes’ advice from the day they met, said lightly, “Something like that.”

From the gleam in Hughes’ eye Roy didn’t think he’d escaped all notice, but Hughes didn’t push it.

And that was the other thing hanging around with Hughes was good for. Practice.

It was a good evening, though, and Roy didn’t mind too badly that Hughes beat him at darts; Roy was, slowly, getting better. The act of aiming didn’t make his hand shake any longer.

It was closing on midnight when one of the other patrons challenged Hughes to a match.

Roy was used to seeing the long lines of Hughes’ face relaxed in a lazy grin. Sardonic, at the most. He’d never seen the cold, focused look that flickered there now, before Hughes turned a wide smile on the challenger.

“Sure thing! My frien’ here just isn’ a challenge, you know?”

Hughes speech hadn’t been slurred like that five seconds ago, either. Roy sat back, making sure his own face was blank and watched.

Hughes lost two rounds, narrowly, with what looked a great deal like drunken distress. By that time Roy was expecting the offer of a “friendly wager” to make the last round “interesting”. He had to keep his beer in front of his face to conceal his amused disgust at the stock dialogue. Hughes agreed. The challenger threw carefully, making a very good score, and turned to Hughes with a triumphant smirk.

Hughes smiled back, narrow eyed, and his speech was clear as glass. “For the end of this, you know, I think I want to use my own.” One of his small, evil looking knives appeared between his fingers. He barely looked at the dartboard as he threw it, to land dead center.

After a moment of frozen silence, the challenger slid the money they had bet toward Hughes and left without a word.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Roy chuckled as Hughes sat back down.

Hughes sniffed. “When someone’s planning to cheat you, nice doesn’t come into it.”

“Point,” Roy admitted. “But how did you know so fast?”

A bit of the hardness returned. “Are you kidding? They’ve been watching us almost since we got here. And anyone who doesn’t know me would expect me to be pretty drunk by now.”

Roy considered his friend for a moment. He hadn’t really thought Hughes had that twisty of a mind, but taking into account tonight’s performance… “Were you playing under your game this whole time?” he asked evenly.

Hughes gave him a pained look. “Give me some credit, Mustang. You’d be ticked off if I did, and you’re a lot more dangerous than them.”

Roy looked away. “No, I’m not. You know I wouldn’t do something like that.”

Hughes was silent for a few moments, looking like he was weighing something. Then the cold expression returned full force and he leaned forward. “Yes, you are. Not to me, no, but I’ve seen it a few times. That look you get. And let me tell you, Mustang, if you don’t do something with that much rage you _will_ lose it some day.”

Roy let his own cold come to the surface, the cold that had begun to grow the day he closed his mouth on the news of Dr. Marco’s desertion. Truth for truth. “What makes you think I’m not doing something with it?” he asked softly.

Hughes’ eyes narrowed, and his mouth tilted. “I did wonder about that,” he admitted.

“I thought you might have,” Roy agreed.

Hughes sat back, laughing. “You’re a stubborn one, all right. All this time just to confirm what I knew the day we met.”

“I should give everything away without seeing a return?” Mustang asked. “Not what you should expect of any alchemist.”

“Fair enough. Oh, and about the whole keeping up a cover thing?”

Roy raised an eyebrow.

“Just cultivate the face you’ve got on now,” Hughes recommended.

“Hughes…”

“Maas, already,” Hughes cut in.

Roy was too intent to argue, which, when he thought about it later, was probably the idea. “Maas, then, this is exactly what I don’t want known.”

Hughes… Maas squinted at him. “You’ve never looked in the mirror when you’re like this, have you?” he asked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Didn’t think so. Look, it doesn’t make you look harmless, but you _aren’t_ harmless and very few people will think you are no matter how sweet you look.”

Roy glared.

“That one’s good, too,” Maas grinned. “The point is, when you look like that you’re a lot less readable.”

Roy rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. “Maas. Why are you coaching me in how to be unreadable and as good as telling me that you’ll help me do whatever I’m doing?”

Maas propped his chin on his fist. “You want the truth?”

“Always.” Roy’s voice was sharp.

Maas teeth gleamed briefly. “I’m curious. And you’re doing something covert, which is my specialty. And having known you for a few months I think whatever you’re doing will be something I would appreciate.”

Roy thought about that. Maas was, in his own phrase, laid back and, in Roy’s estimate, cynical. On the one hand, that would probably keep him from being horrified by what Roy wanted to see done. On the other, it would also probably make him skeptical about the scope of Roy’s plans.

And then he thought of that cold, hard focus he’d seen on Maas’ face tonight. It seemed he wasn’t the only one at the table who cultivated a mask, because that look had overwhelming drive and power behind it.

“I suppose you might appreciate it at that,” Roy said slowly.

“Of course! Now, don’t feel you have to tell me anything, Roy,” Maas assured him expansively, “after all, it’ll be much more fun to figure it out myself.”

“Indeed?” Roy couldn’t stop a wicked smile at the thought. If Maas thought he had all the upper hand… “Well, then, perhaps I’ll see if I can make it more… _interesting_ for you.”

Everyone else in the bar probably thought that the two laughing young officers were just drunk.

** TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

###  I

Maas was having the time of his life.

Figuring out Roy Mustang was providing more fun than any two field assignments put together. Tracking Roy’s movements was easy enough; figuring out why he went certain places and did certain things was the challenge.

Some things were already clear. Promotion seemed to be step one of whatever Roy’s project was. He was efficient with his paperwork; he was meticulously respectful of senior officers; he was courteous to those who worked under him, and they said good things about him to the grapevine; he took initiative, but carefully.

Maas favorite instance of that last, the one he would have pressed in a scrapbook if he could have, was when Hakuro’s aide arrived one rainy afternoon, muddy from head to toe, with the news that his superior was stranded outside the city in a broken down car and would be late for a rather important meeting. By the time Hakuro’s own superior made it to the front doors, still arguing viciously with the Colonel in charge of the motorpool over whose fault this was, Roy had arranged for another car, a mechanic and a change of uniform just in case, and handed them off with a salute.

The looks on the faces of the arguing officers had been treasures, and Maas was very glad he’d been in a position to see them.

What Maas didn’t know yet was what Roy wanted to _do_ with more rank. Part of Roy’s obscurity, he had to admit, was really his own fault. Roy had taken to heart his advice on how to conceal his thoughts. Day by day, nearly, Maas could see him honing that terrifying coldness that Maas had seen in him the day they met. It was like watching ice crystalize, and an unguarded smile was coming to be a rare thing from Roy.

In his own contrary fashion, Roy was also rapidly acquiring a reputation as a bit of a playboy, which Maas had found odd considering how reticent Roy seemed to be most of the time. Then he’d made up a list of all the women and the few men Roy flirted with most, and another list of who else those people associated with regularly. He’d laughed until his neighbor pounded on the wall for him to shut up. It was such a Roy way to do things–straightforward and roundabout at the same time.

Maas was still unsure what to make of Roy’s relentless drive to refine his alchemical skills. Of course, any State Alchemist was expected to show results for the resources they took up, but the ones who were serving officers had a bit of latitude. Roy’s dedication went far beyond what was expected of him on that score, and Maas was fairly sure that Roy was concealing the extent of his ability from everyone but Maas.

It helped, of course, that Maas was the only one who would come anywhere near Roy while he was practicing.

Maas was sure he was getting somewhere, though. Given Roy’s reading material during his retreats to the library, what he wanted clearly had something to do with politics. Maas stopped short of trying to get Roy drunk enough to talk freely about his political views, because this was, after all, a friend he was trying to unravel.

But he was still getting somewhere, and thus he was first annoyed and then amused at himself for being annoyed when he got an assignment to go South looking for some Alchemist who had disappeared.

Still, he’d only be gone a few weeks.

### II

_It’s only a few weeks,_ Roy told himself sternly. _Stop moping_.

Contrary to all his expectations, Roy had found himself enjoying the dodging about with Maas. The man was unendingly tenacious, and kept Roy on his toes; he was even good company while they sparred back and forth. Roy was sure he knew the location of every bar and theatre in Central City by now, dragged there in the name of “relaxing for once, Mustang!” So when Maas departed on an assignment Roy was left with a feeling of let-down.

He knew it was ridiculous, but he couldn’t stop himself from finding excuses to stroll past the Intelligence offices with increasing frequency, hoping to hear that Maas was back.

_This is silly. It isn’t like I don’t have other things to pay attention to. There’s no reason to wander around looking like…_

“Well, don’t you look like a wet week,” observed an amused voice behind him.

Roy spun around with what he was sure was a foolishly wide smile before he managed to compress it into a grin. “I was starting to wonder if you’d gotten yourself transmuted into a frog down there, Hughes.”

“Ha!” Maas’ expression changed to one of disgust. “Didn’t see hide nor hair of any alchemist. Well, at least it was a chance to get out of uniform, since no one would give me the time of day if I was wearing it.”

Indeed, Maas looked scruffier than usual, which, Roy considered, took a little doing.

And then he actually heard what Maas had said.

“Sounds rough,” he said casually. “Come have a drink and I’ll let you bend my ear about it.”

They swung by Roy’s room to pick up the bottle, but wound up in Maas’ so he could unpack.

“So, boring couple weeks?” Roy probed, pouring for them both.

Maas snorted. “Waste of time, as far as my actual assignment went. Now, if I’d been sent to investigate civilian attitudes toward the military I could have written a report as long as my arm.”

“Not good?” Roy took a mouth-concealing sip.

“Only what anyone with a brain might expect, really.” Maas sprawled over his bed and took a long swallow. “They recruited pretty heavily from that area for that mess out East. A lot of people didn’t come back. A lot of families are wondering what all those lives went to accomplish.”

“Did anyone… take it out on you?” This time, Roy had no qualms with letting his investment in the question show.

Maas’ mouth tilted up at one corner. If he meant it as a smile it didn’t reach his eyes. “Not beyond a little shouting.”

“Mmm.”

Maas’ look was suddenly sharp as it raked over Roy’s face. After a few rather unnerving minutes his mouth twisted into a more genuine smirk. “So,” he said softly, “do you want to staunch a rebellion single-handedly to impress Bradley, or do you want to see them all succeed in breaking away?”

Roy laughed, relief and alcohol combining to make him just a bit light-headed. “Neither.”

“Interesting.” Maas leaned back on one arm, hazel eyes hooded. “Well, I’ll keep an ear out for you in any case. If you like.”

Roy had to pause to admire the artistry of that offer.

Maas offered his, not insignificant, help in ferreting out information Roy wanted. But by knowing what Roy wanted and seeing what interested him, Maas would come that much closer to identifying Roy’s final goals. So now Roy had to ask himself again, did he want Maas Hughes to find that out?

“That would be helpful,” he said, at last, “Thank you.”

It wasn’t until Maas’ shoulders relaxed a fraction that Roy understood his friend had also been asking how much Roy trusted him.

They both covered the moment by pouring new glasses.

_When did it come to trust?_ Roy wondered. _When did that start?_

### III

It was two days after his return that Maas discovered how a certain portion of the headquarters personnel had seen his little welcome-home bash with Roy. It was First Lieutenant Harding who sniggered loud enough for Maas to hear.

“…should have seen it. And they went straight back to Hughes’ room, locked the door and didn’t come out until nearly dawn. Guy next door said they were laughing an awful lot.”

“I’m amazed Mustang could walk that morning,” another of the small group chipped in.

“Well, maybe Hughes went easy on him…”

The group dissolved into snickers and crude suggestions.

Maas reacted without thinking, and two knives buried themselves in the wall a centimeter from Harding’s nose. The little group cowered back as Maas stalked toward them, but he merely retrieved his knives. In the silence, the noise they made coming clear was quite audible.

“Excuse me.”

_thu_

“My hand slipped.”

_thu_

Harding lifted both hands, cautiously. “No offense, Hughes, he’s all yours, I mean…”

Maas gave him the kind of look reserved for the terminally stupid, right after their stupidity has terminated them.

“Are you really brainless enough to believe that the Flame Alchemist, one of the most dangerous men in this city, _belongs_ to anyone? This is a friendly warning, right?” Maas tapped the point of one knife against Harding’s chin. “If he ever hears you say something like that I’m going to stand back and laugh while he fries your balls for breakfast.”

He strode away, leaving a couple very pale men behind.

_Complete idiots…_ He highly doubted that Roy Mustang would let himself sleep with an actual friend. Roy was downright allergic to vulnerability of any kind. Maas was positive his trust had been betrayed at some point. Besides which, he was pretty sure they had it the wrong way around. There was an intensity in Roy that overwhelmed whatever it was focused on and would not give way to anything. It was what fueled his remarkable efficiency and drove his unremitting practice of alchemy as a combat skill. Maas would bet money that that intensity would show up in bed. It was actually a good part of what made Roy so attractive.

Maas stopped dead in the hall and ran that last thought through his mind again.

_Oh, I’m not…_ Well, yes, obviously Roy was a good looking man, and could be charming when he wanted to, as his string of bedazzled secretaries demonstrated. But…

Maas took himself off to his office and proceeded to get no work done at all.

_All right, all right,_ Maas admitted at last, refraining valiantly from beating his head against his desk, _I do think he’s attractive, as well as an interesting puzzle, and amusingly muzzy when he’s drunk, and a darn good drama critic, and… oh, hell._

He sighed. Not as though it was really news that he liked to play with fire.

If Maas could now just keep from adding to the gossip by, oh, say, overreacting, it wouldn’t likely be any problem. He spent a few moments hoping fervently that, best case, Roy would never hear of the grapevine’s latest sexual estimation of him or that, next best case, he wouldn’t take it out on Maas.

Ah well. Life had been too boring before.

### IV

The last hay bale ripped apart with a concussive shock. Roy sighed. Maas jumped down from his perch behind Roy and strolled over to examine it.

“Don’t think you’d better count on that one to just disable,” he remarked, judiciously.

“Do you know, I had that thought myself?”

Maas grinned over his shoulder. “And still sarcastic. Your endurance must be increasing.”

Roy lidded his eyes and smirked. “We could test it out,” he suggested, rasing his hand.

Maas’ eye glinted, and his own hand flickered. Roy melted the knife half way.

“Thanks,” Roy said as they made their way back inside.

Maas lifted a brow. “What for?”

“Ah.” Roy shook himself. “Nothing. Never mind.”

The thing was, he thought as they parted ways, Maas was the only person he knew who looked at Roy’s alchemy as perfectly normal. Some people wanted to use its power, some were afraid of it, but only Maas treated it as a handy tool that Roy happened to be good with. Something a lot like his own knives.

Roy had known, intellectually, that as his skill increased and as he displayed more of it, the fear of those around him would likely increase also. But to actually see that fear, to have people step out of his way in the hall…

He didn’t like it.

Yet… wasn’t that the point? Wasn’t that what he had set out to accomplish by condensing his rage and disgust into ice and focus?

Even the ones he charmed had that distance at the back of their eyes, that wariness.

Roy closed the door of his room behind himself, curled up on his bed and finally looked at the thought that had been creeping around the edges of his mind for weeks.

That was how people looked at Basque Gran.

Roy shuddered and curled up tighter.

But Maas didn’t look at him like that.

He held onto that thought very, very hard.

** TBC **


	3. Chapter 3

Captain Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist, had been stalking around Central City headquarters all day like a panther with a thorn in its paw.

A young panther, to be sure, but that didn’t make the people around him feel significantly more secure.

After the sixth time Maas was accosted in the hall with a more or less subtle inquiry of whether he could please do something about his friend, he decided it might actually be serious and not just Roy practicing his intimidation techniques.

A few questions revealed that Roy had met with Colonel Gran that morning to discuss his promotion prospects.

_Definitely serious. Wonder why he didn’t mention it?_ Unless, of course, the meeting had come as a surprise to Roy himself. In which case, the question was whether it would be better to get Roy out of headquarters to somewhere he could blow things up until he calmed down, or to distract him somehow.

A quick look out the window showed clouds piling up as evening drew on. Not outside, then.

Maas tracked Roy down to his room. His knock on the door was greeted by a groan.

“Maas, since I know that’s you, you are _not_ dragging me out _tonight_, not anywhere, I don’t care _how_ good the beer is at the latest bar you found!”

Maas breezed in anyway. “Nor even how beautiful the girls are?” he inquired.

Roy removed the arm he had thrown over his eyes so that he could glare. “Nor that either. I’m surprised you haven’t figured that one out for yourself…” he trailed off in a grumble.

“What,” Maas asked, pulling up a chair across from Roy’s bedside table, “that you only flirt with the ladies who are girlfriends or secretaries or whatnot to the officers with their fingers in politics?”

Roy didn’t even bother to sigh. “Yes, that.”

“Weeks and weeks ago. Not to worry, Maas is here with the perfect thing to help you unwind after a long day,” Maas declared.

The look of some trepidation on Roy’s face changed to blankness as Maas pulled out a deck of cards and bridged them between his hands.

“Cards?”

“Poker, to be specific,” Maas corrected, starting to shuffle.

Roy’s lips twitched a few times before he broke down laughing. “Poker? _Us?_” He curled up on his side, holding his stomach. “I could have sworn you said _relax_,” he managed at last.

Maas eyed his friend tolerantly. “Oh, come on Roy, how many secrets do you think you’re still actually keeping from me? Surely it won’t make that much difference whether you work at fooling me or not.”

Roy gave him an opaque look. “I’m pretty sure there’s at least one,” he replied.

Maas was pretty sure there were more than that, but he certainly wasn’t going to say so. “Well then you could still use the practice on something that doesn’t matter, right?”

Roy hauled himself upright. “Since I doubt I’m getting out of this, you might as well just deal.”

Once they were playing Roy’s lackluster attitude disappeared like snow in the spring, as Maas had rather expected it would. Roy really was insanely competitive about anything he paid attention to.

And he was getting a lot better at controlling his expression, too.

“Raise.”

“Call.” _He can’t really have…_

An evil smirk appeared. “Royal flush,” Roy declared, laying the cards out with a flourish.

“All right, all right, you got me this time,” Maas laughed. “I still carry the night.”

“Well,” Roy allowed, “since I am more relaxed than I was three hours ago, I suppose you do.”

Maas leaned back in his chair, smiling. Roy always remembered _all_ the stakes. “I certainly do. And you’re just lucky we weren’t playing strip poker, my friend.”

Roy gave him a Look, and then leaned back himself. Maas realized that he had just managed to hit _another_ competitive trigger.

“Why Maas,” Roy purred, “I had no idea you walked that side.”

After a moment of fast calculation on the odds, Maas decided he’d better alter his ground. An innuendo war was just as likely to wind Roy up again. He shrugged. “Once or twice. You?”

It was his personal discovery, and one he was rather proud of, that Roy would almost always respond to a direct revelation and then a request for one in return. It seemed to be a reflex. It worked this time, too.

“On occasion.” And then the ground changed again. “Is there a reason you ask?”

Maas scrunched up his mouth. Roy was looking at him narrowly. Maas knew his friend was perceptive when he was paying attention. To hedge or not to hedge? Maas’ common sense was telling him to stop and think about this. His love of challenges and puzzles, backed up by the hormones that had lately been taking notice of Roy, were telling him to go for it. _Ah, screw it._

“Could be,” he allowed, letting his eyes travel down Roy in a very clear once-over.

“Hm.” Roy’s posture shifted subtly, more open, more sinuous. “Well, then,” he said softly.

It was becoming increasingly hard to tell, with Roy, whether this kind of invitation was shyness or a trap. Maas decided that it would be interesting either way. He moved across to the bed and brushed his hand along Roy’s jaw.

Roy tipped his head back, his eyes half closed.

Maas leaned down over him and brushed his lips across Roy’s. He felt them curve under his, and then Roy twisted, quick as a cat, and Maas hit the bed hard, on his back, with Roy’s weight over him.

_A trap,_ he decided, as Roy’s mouth closed on his for a hard, searching kiss.

Maas laughed up at his friend as Roy drew back. “Well, aren’t we feeling dominant?” he teased.

“Yes,” Roy agreed, very quietly, “we are.”

“Why does that not surprise me in the least?” That wildness that Maas occasionally saw in Roy was clear and present, burning in his eyes, and Maas found that he had, in fact, more than half expected it–the other side of Roy’s coldness, most likely springing from the same source, the intensity Roy brought to all areas of his project, but uncontained here and now.

“Does it bother you?” Roy asked

Maas also found that the idea of being touched by that intensity was very attractive indeed. “I don’t mind one way or the other, as long as you’re considerate about it.”

Roy’s teeth gleamed. “Always,” he breathed before leaning down again. One of Roy’s hands curled around the back of Maas’ neck and Maas let Roy’s mouth open his own. He was curious to see how far that wildness would go. _Curiosity really will be the death of me one of these days,_ he decided, a bit hazily as Roy slid a leg between his thighs.

Roy’s body, moving against his, was demanding, but his hands were gentle, fingers tracing light paths down Maas’ arms, chest, over his ribs.

He was _not_ particularly gentle with their clothing, and Maas was fairly sure he’d have a few buttons missing after this.

On the other hand, the heat of skin against skin was worth it, and Roy’s skin felt almost fever-hot under Maas’ hands. He missed it when Roy whispered to wait and rose to make a whirlwind rummage through his dresser. When he returned, he lay down beside Maas.

“Here, bend you leg.”

Maas thought that Roy must be watching his face very carefully, because he was not slow and his fingers never stopped, but he never quite went faster than Maas could handle. When Maas released a low sigh Roy leaned down and kissed him long and deep.

“Now?”

Roy’s dark eyes were hot, but his mouth was calm and still. Maas could see that if he wanted longer Roy would hold the wildness back, and he smiled. It was good to know.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

Roy moved down the bed and ran his hands up the backs of Maas’ legs. Maas arched against the bed, gasping, as Roy pressed into him, hard inside him. It was a controlled movement, but still not a slow one. Roy pushed him to the edge, overwhelmed with raw sensation.

From the sound of Roy’s voice, Maas wasn’t the only one.

In fact, Roy was the first to fall over the edge, which Maas felt quite smug about in the corner of his brain that still functioned.

And then Roy’s hands were on his knees, pushing his legs down and apart, and Roy’s mouth closed over him, hot and wet, and Maas’ hips tried to flex up into it. He shuddered as Roy’s hands held him down and open, and groaned as Roy’s tongue pulled him hard into brilliance.

They lay, sprawled next to each other, catching their breaths, and when he had, Maas couldn’t stop laughing. “That was so very _you_, Roy.”

“Mmmm,” Roy mumbled before opening his eyes. “How so?”

“I can’t imagine anyone else who could be that forceful without ever actually being rough about it.” Maas smiled affectionately at his friend.

Roy propped himself up on his elbows. “You don’t mind that I was… forceful?”

Maas grinned. “Nah. It was fun.”

Roy returned it. “Good.”

Maas stretched, paused, stretched more carefully. “Of course, if you’ve got a few aspirin hanging around I wouldn’t say no to them.”

Roy scrambled out of bed with a penitent expression and returned with aspirin, water and a towel. Having applied each appropriately, Maas pulled Roy down and kissed away the concerned line of his mouth.

“I wouldn’t mind doing that again some time,” he murmured.

Roy ran a hand through Maas’ hair. “You’re sure?”

Maas decided it was time for desperate measures, before Roy managed to make himself feel guilty. “You make love like a windstorm, never stopping, taking everyone’s breath away, lifting everything off the ground, wild enough to scare people.”

Roy was a bit wide-eyed.

“Like I said,” Maas continued, with less poetry and more pragmatism, “it’s you. And I know you. I knew it would be a wild ride. And I enjoyed it.”

Now Roy was actually blushing. Maas’ mouth quirked. “Besides, now I bet you’re _really_ relaxed,” he finished. “I carry the night.”

Roy’s mouth twitched once. Twice.

And then he snatched a pillow to pummel Maas with.

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

###  I

When Maas Hughes was promoted from First Lieutenant to Captain he bragged about it rather a lot to his best friend, Captain Roy Mustang.

Roy bore with him fairly patiently, only an occasional twitch of his fingers giving him away.

Exactly one week later, Roy was promoted to Major.

Maas found out from the bulletin board.

He stalked down the halls to Roy’s office and slammed back the door.

“Mustang!”

Roy leaned his chin on his fist and gave Maas a glittering smile. “Yes? Hughes-taii?”

Maas opened his mouth, shut it with a snap, and glared.

Roy smiled wider.

“You’re an evil bastard,” Maas told him, almost calmly. “I thought you should know.”

“Thank you for your input,” Roy murmured.

Maas slammed the door again on his way out.

He hauled Roy out to the bar that night to celebrate.

“You do remember we have a dress review tomorrow morning, don’t you?” Roy asked, not as though he thought it would alter Maas’ plans.

Maas waved this off. “I’m not the one who gets hung over, now spill! How long have you known it was coming?”

“For sure? Only a few days.”

Maas was faintly appeased. “I suppose that’s all right then.”

Roy laughed at him, and they toasted both their new ranks.

* * *

Maas felt somewhat revenged the next morning, when he noticed that Roy was squinting a bit in the sunlight as the staff of Central City headquarters all turned out for review.

He didn’t have a great deal of time to appreciate it, though.

Intelligence had been scrambling for almost two months over death threats to Dai-Soutou Bradley, so it was not actually a shock to Maas when gunfire came from the roofs around the parade ground. He didn’t even waste time cursing today’s security for their failure.

He had time to fire twice, time to be sure that at least two of the bodies hurtling toward Bradley would get through, and then the air exploded. Fire whipped out, coiled around the attackers, snapped and burst. It left collapsed bodies smoking in its wake.

The crowd, frozen in the midst of panic, drew back slowly, leaving Roy Mustang standing alone, hand raised.

Of course, Maas had mentioned his office’s upset to Roy.

Bradley picked himself up and nodded to Roy. “Thank you, Major.”

Roy saluted him, crisply. “Excellency.”

Bradley returned it, and waved to his security detail to take care of the bodies.

“Excellency,” one of them exclaimed, “they’re not dead!”

Bradley turned back to favor Roy with a long look. Roy’s expression was cold and still, and Maas thought he might be the only person there who understood how much pain was compressed behind it, how many hours of practice to refine his skills until he could injure without killing.

He’d pried the story of Ishvar out of Roy a while back. Was this what it all came down to, after all? The determination to be something more than a gun in someone else’s hands?

“Excellent forethought,” Bradley remarked at last.

Maas watched Roy’s eyes, focused on Bradley as he turned away, and decided that there was still more he hadn’t found. He made his way to Roy and laid an unobtrusive hand on his shoulder.

“Can you walk?” he asked, having seen Roy occasionally collapse in a heap after a particularly impressive effort.

“Yes,” Roy returned quietly. “I’ll be fine.”

Looking up, Maas found Gran staring at them. Measuring his erstwhile subordinate’s power? Or perhaps his ambition? The latter, it seemed, since he paused on his way past them.

“Going straight to the top, Flame Alchemist?” he grated.

Roy didn’t look at him. “I merely acted as my duty demands. Sir.”

* * *

Whether Gran liked it or not, it seemed that Roy had indeed caught Bradley’s eye, because he was reassigned to the command of one of the Headquarters General Staff. It was because of this that Maas finally realized just how great a secret he’d been chasing for over a year.

He’d been called in to give a report in person. A waste of time, in his estimation, since he couldn’t exactly add more facts than he’d put in his written version. Still, it afforded him some mild entertainment to watch Roy not paying any attention at all because he’d heard it already.

But, no, Maas realized slowly, Roy was paying attention to something else. His eyes stayed on his notes or on Maas, but his attention was focused on Bradley like sunlight concentrated in a magnifying glass, brilliant and burning. After a while Maas started to be amazed that everyone in the room didn’t notice it._He’s focused on Bradley like he looks at those hay bales of his…_

Maas stiffened.

It was all he could do to keep answering questions coherently while that thought reverberated in his head.

_He can’t… really…_

Politics. Ambition. Reports of unrest. Power.

Fury.

He gratefully accepted his dismissal at last, and collapsed against the wall outside to try and catch his breath.

_Roy…_

### II

When Maas showed up at Roy’s door looking grim and just a bit wild around the eyes, Roy was sure that something momentous had happened in his office that day some time after his rather bored report-in-person. “Maas, what happened?”

Maas scrubbed his hands over his face and gave Roy a long look. “Roy. Are you really planning to kill Bradley?”

Roy thought his heart might have stopped, but no, it was just his breath. The question he had been hoping, fearing, anticipating took him completely unawares. After a frozen second he nodded.

“And what? Replace him?”

“Not… exactly,” Roy whispered. He collapsed to the edge of his bed.

Maas, not looking in much better shape, just slid down the wall to the floor. He rested his head on his knees and laughed helplessly. “And I spent all this time wondering what the big deal could be.”

Roy really didn’t want to ask, but he had to know, and he had to know now. “What will you do about it?”

“I’m not going to turn you in,” Maas said without lifting his head.

Now it was Roy’s turn to have to put his head down on his knees, as the room went dark for a moment. He could feel his heart again.

“And I’m not going to ask something stupid like _why_, because I really do remember all the conversations we’ve had this year,” Maas continued conversationally. “Or at least I did while I was wandering around after that damn meeting.”

Roy was recovering enough to be curious. “How did you know?”

Maas finally looked up, frowning a little. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and squinted at Roy. “You know, I think it might just be that I know you. I could see the way you were focused on him, and the thing it said to me was _target_. After that… it was just adding the bits up. But no one else seems to see it.”

Roy could feel his attempt at a smile wavering a bit. “No one else knows me like that.”

“I guess not.” Maas let his head fall back against the wall. “You’re crazy, you realize that.”

“No, Maas, I’m not.” Roy’s voice was suddenly clear and cold.

Maas blinked up at him.

“The ones who are crazy are the ones who throw thousands of lives away like a handful of sand in the desert. The ones who exalt destruction and the means of it. The ones who can think that the destruction of a city full of people only trying to keep their lives and homes can be justified in the name of defense. To stop them? That’s sanity.”

Maas looked at him silently for a dozen heartbeats, and then closed his eyes and bowed his head. “You’re right.”

It was Roy’s turn to blink.

Maas fetched up a sigh that sounded like it started at his toes and looked up again. “What do you need?”

“What…?”

Maas came to Roy and took his shoulders. “What do you need to make this work, Roy?”

Thoughts flickered through Roy’s head. _People I can trust… To know what’s going on… To stir things up…_ But in the end it was none of those he voiced to Maas’ steady gaze.

“I need to not become one of them.”

Maas nodded firmly. “Then you won’t.”

A shudder ripped through Roy, and he reached out to Maas to keep his balance. They ended up on the floor by the bed, leaning into each other’s arms.

“Thank you,” Roy whispered, trying to still himself.

Maas held him tighter.

Eventually Roy calmed enough to start thinking again. Maas had just decided to help him with something that could end in a very unpleasant death. However much comfort his help would give Roy, Roy felt impelled to double check. “Are you sure?”

Maas chuckled. “Do you remember what I said the last time you asked me that?”

It took Roy a minute, but when he recalled he laughed too. “If I’m not mistaken you said that you enjoy wild rides.”

“A long time ago you agreed that I might appreciate what you want to do,” Maas said, more seriously. “You were right.”

“Not,” he added, “that you should get a swelled head about being right so often, mind you.”

Roy suppressed the urge to ask _why not?_ He would save it up for later.

“Thank you,” he repeated instead.

**TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

Today it was Maas’ turn to wander aimlessly around the offices while he waited for Roy to get back. He supposed it was only fair for the boredom to be shared both ways, and he had to admit that his fidgeting was less volatile than Roy’s was these days, but that didn’t make the wait any less annoying.

Of course, it was probably just as well for the rest of the world that he and Roy had only ever been sent on the same assignment once. It had been great fun; Roy loosened up considerably once away from Central, and Maas had the pictures to prove it. But the incident with the case of beer, the General’s boots, the mess tent and the two cans of red paint had apparently convinced their superiors that Hughes and Mustang should be assigned separately in the future.

At least he could be reasonably well assured that his friend had good back up while he was away. Roy had been given command of a unit for his assignment, and accordingly had also attached an aide. A quick chat with her last Sergeant had assured Maas that Second Lieutenant Lisa Hawkeye was as competent as they came. Sergeant Morrow, whose kindest term for Second Lieutenants was usually “baggage”, had nearly gushed over her.

Fortunately, before Maas’ fidgeting devolved into writing graffiti on the bulletin boards, his ear detected the return of Roy and his new aide both.

“…see that the liaison gets a copy of the report, too.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Maas narrowed his eyes when he actually saw Roy’s face. It was absolutely expressionless. Roy passed him and continued into his office with a nod and a brief, “Hughes.”

_What the hell happened out there?_ Maas shot a glance at Hawkeye, who was frowning faintly.

“I’ll copy it and pass it along to you, then,” Roy said to the air, his back to them.

“I can take care of that, Sir.”

Roy shook his head. “No, I’ll do it.”

This seemed to be some kind of last straw for Hawkeye and she turned to Maas. “Hughes-taii, Mustang-junsa needs to _stop_ and get some rest. Do something about this, if you please,” she told him crisply.

Now Roy had an expression. Astonished. Maas had a feeling his wasn’t far behind.

Hawkeye gestured sharply, as if to brush the surprise away. “You’re the only one in this city he actually listens to. Now.”

Maas shook off his amazement and grinned at Roy. “You heard the lady.”

Hawkeye held out a hand for the folders Roy still carried. “I’ll take care of it, sir,” she repeated more softly.

A tiny, wry smile crossed Roy’s face. “Of course, Shoui.” He passed over the paperwork and turned for the door.

Maas, following him out, offered Hawkeye a casual salute behind his back. “Observant, that one,” he remarked to Roy as they made their way to the officers’ dormitory.

“Very.”

Maas was frowning himself, now, but didn’t press yet. Instead he kept up a one-sided stream of the latest headquarters gossip until they reached Roy’s room.

“All right, Roy, what happened?” he demanded as soon as the door was shut.

“Nothing.”

Roy stood in the middle of his room, staring at empty air. Maas’ mouth tightened. Something had struck one of Roy’s fault lines, and he didn’t have many that would cause a reaction like this. Killing the unarmed was one. Dealing with Gran was the other. To the best of Maas’ knowledge Gran had been completely uninvolved with this assignment, but maybe…

And then he took Roy’s arm to turn him around and revised his opinion.

Tremors were running through the whole of Roy’s body, sharp, uneven. His expression was edgy, brittle. He looked as if one blow would shatter him. Maas hadn’t seen him like this since the night they’d finally had all the secrets out. This was stress, not guilt.

“When they looked at me… they were so afraid… I could taste it…” Roy’s voice was thin, and Maas wasn’t sure his eyes saw what was in front of him.

“You can’t avoid it,” Maas told him as gently as he could. “When civilians see…”

“_My own men!_“

_Oh, damn._ Maas had actually been tracking the increasing alarm among the soldiers regarding Roy and his power, but it was holding fairly steady for now at the “cross him and you’re toast” level. He hadn’t expected that to have such a severe effect on Roy, but looking back on it he realized he should have. Roy took a certain savage enjoyment in making the senior officers scared of him, but _this_, Maas finally understood, must be included in Roy’s motto and first law.

_I need to not become one of them._

And he’d been away from headquarters, with no one to say this to or get reassurance from. The first sting had obviously festered for his brooding on it. Fortunately, it didn’t take all that much to bring Roy out of these moments; logic was usually enough.

“Roy, it will be all right,” he soothed. “You can change this if you need to.”

Well, at least that had gotten Roy to focus on him. Maas tugged him down to sit on the edge of the bed, a little afraid that his friend was going to fall if that shaking kept up. “Listen,” he said reasonably, “You’ve spent well over a year cultivating the appearance of a really dangerous bastard. So it had some side effects you didn’t expect. But not everywhere. That second of yours sure isn’t afraid of you, is she?”

That actually got a short laugh. “No,” Roy agreed.

“So there’s your starting point. She’s your aide. The longer she’s with you, the more the men under your command will take their cue from her. You worry too much.”

That got a longer laugh, albeit faintly tinged with what Maas pegged as slightly hysterical relief. At least the shaking had stopped, though it seemed to have left Roy a bit wrung out by the way he flopped back across the bed.

_Yet another crisis averted,_ Maas congratulated himself. Really, Roy was way too high strung to be allowed to run around without a keeper. Nice that Maas seemed to have been gifted with an ally who thought the same thing; he’d really have to have a chat over coffee with that Hawkeye-shoui sometime soon. Roy was taking so much on himself that the only real surprise was that he hadn’t completely snapped long since. At least he had unwound for now, even if he did do it more abruptly than seemed advisable.

“Maas, can I ask you for a favor?”

Maas snorted. “That depends entirely on the favor.”

Roy’s smile was languid, his eyes just a touch hazy.

“Make love to me?”

Maas felt a smile curve his own lips. He very much enjoyed Roy in this mood. When he truly relaxed, all of Roy’s incredible focus spread out into a tangible appreciation of his senses and surroundings. It didn’t happen often, which was a shame because Roy was clearly a born sensualist.

Maas leaned over Roy on one arm, trailing his fingers along Roy’s jaw. Roy sighed, tilted his head back, and Maas kissed down his throat before searching out his mouth.

Roy stretched and shivered under his hands as they slid over Roy’s increasingly bared skin, arching into each touch. His complete responsiveness when he was like this, his total abandon, affected Maas strangely. The soft, breathless sounds Roy made when Maas kissed the hollow of his shoulder or lightly bit the inside of his thigh called up in Maas protectiveness to match his desire.

When he finally settled between Roy’s legs Roy was panting, trembling again though with a very different tension now. Roy’s body opened for him, and the heat of it cut Maas’ breath into quick gasps. They moved against each other hard, wild, moans and soft pleas twining around each other as tightly as their bodies until the tightness broke and exploded outward.

Even as they lay and recovered Maas found himself still tracing his fingers over Roy’s shoulders and cheekbones, kissing him slowly. Roy turned into him, answering with equal leisure, flushed and undone, all but purring.

“You know, don’t you,” Maas murmured to him, “that you’re going to addict whatever poor lovers you let see you like this.”

Roy’s eyes darkened just a bit. “There isn’t anyone but you I trust like this,” he pointed out.

Maas kissed him again. “There will be.” And again when it looked like Roy would protest. “They won’t be me, no. But they will be themselves.”

Roy’s eyes were unreadable now, but he seemed to accept that and settled against Maas’ shoulder.

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

###  I

Normally Maas liked to visit Roy’s office. Since his promotion to Lieutenant Colonel he had started to collect a permanent staff of his own and they were entertaining people.

Today, though, he couldn’t quite settle down to provoking Hawkeye, who Maas thought was much too serious, or sparring with Roy, or even gossiping with Havoc, who Maas swore inhaled the latest juicy fruits of the grapevine through his cigarettes without bothering to do anything as energy intensive as listen.

At last Roy dragged him off, allegedly to have company with his coffee but more probably to prevent Hawkeye from expressing her frustration with Maas’ restlessness too directly. He’d already collected three, increasingly irritated “_Jun_sa”s.

“So what’s up today?” Roy asked as they sat down. “Gracia break a date?”

Maas fiddled with his cup. “No. Kind of… the opposite.”

Roy was looking more amused by the moment. “Gracia _demanded_ a date?”

“She wants…” Maas took a deep breath. “She wants to get married.”

“I’m not surprised at all. Congratulations.” Roy sipped his coffee with, Maas felt, completely insupportable calm.

“Married, Roy! She wants to get married! To me!”

“Well, I didn’t assume she wanted to marry _me_,” Roy murmured. “No accounting for taste I suppose.”

Maas growled, and Roy finally broke down laughing. “Maas, stop jittering for a minute.”

He glared, but did settle a bit if only because Roy so rarely addressed him that informally in public.

“You’ve been courting Gracia for months. You love her, I know you do because you mention it several times a week. She loves you, or at least Hawkeye says she does. Surely you’ve been thinking about this?”

“Well, yes, but not seriously,” Maas protested. “I mean, not this fast.”

Roy shrugged callously. “Gracia is a determined woman. When she decides what she wants it’s a reasonably foregone conclusion that she’ll get it.”

If anyone should know, Maas had to admit, it was Roy. _Kindred spirits_. “All right, all right, I’m resigned, I’m resigned. In a very good and happy way!”

“Probably just as well,” Roy noted.

It wasn’t until they were leaving that Maas collected himself to ask about the other thing that had been making him a bit nervous.

“Roy. When Gracia and I are married… will you stand up with me?”

Roy stunned him with the open smile that almost no one ever saw on him anymore. “Of course I will, Maas. Thank you for asking me.”

“Who else would I ask?” Maas wanted to know, relaxing.

“Armstrong?”

Maas attempted to chase Roy down the hall but was laughing too hard to catch him.

### II

“Hey, Roy, you’re still trying to find that Elric guy, aren’t you?”

Roy looked up from his interminable stack of paperwork. Maas was leaning in the door. “Not that it seems to be doing much good, but yes.”

“Well, this letter came for Herbert, with his name on in. Herbert happens to be in the field, so I thought you might like to see.”

Roy found that the envelope had already been opened, seal carefully left intact. Maas was nothing if not good at his job. When he’d read the letter he simply sat for a while, gazing out the window, until Maas finally prodded him.

“So? What’s it say? And why would a man who took that much trouble to disappear write openly like this?”

“It isn’t from Hohenheim. It’s from his sons. They also seem to be looking for him.”

Maas made a face. Roy’s mouth quirked, he having already heard extensively from his friend on the subject of the responsibilities entailed by having children. He rather thought Gracia had decided to have one soon.

“I think,” Roy said slowly, “that I’ll pay a visit to the Elric family. There might be… possibilities.”

**End**


End file.
